


Aya

by chains_archivist



Category: Original Work
Genre: Angst, Boys in Chains, Lemon, M/M, Prostitution, Slaves, Work In Progress, Yaoi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-25
Updated: 2015-06-25
Packaged: 2018-04-06 02:38:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,431
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4204848
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chains_archivist/pseuds/chains_archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>by Kimarrone<br/>This is the story of twin brothers separated by Fate, loved by mortal enemies, caught in a web of power struggles, deceit, betrayals, and hatred.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. PART 1: CHANGE OF LUCK

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Dusk, the archivist: this work was originally archived at [Boys in Chains](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Boys_in_Chains), which opened in 2000 as a multifandom archive for both fiction and art, but then sadly went offline in 2005. To bring the archive back, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in December 2014. Open Doors [posted an announcement](http://archiveofourown.org/admin_posts/1832) and e-mailed all creators about the move, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this author, please [contact the Open Doors committee](http://transformativeworks.org/contact/open%20doors).  
> \--  
> Title: Aya   
> Author: Kimarrone   
> Fandom: Original anime   
> Pairing: Original   
> Rating: R   
> Warning: Angst, yaoi, lemon, prostitution   
> Summary: This is the story of twin brothers separated by Fate, loved by mortal enemies, caught in a web of power struggles, deceit, betrayals, and hatred.   
> Notes: This is an original fic. The characters belong to me personally. Any resemblance to real-life people and places is due to either coincidence or inspiration. Any C&C will make me a better writer, therefore are welcome. Please don't take this fic or any of its characters without my express permission.
> 
> :a: thoughts {a} dream sequences  telepathic conversations @@@@ changes in point of view "a" speech (redundant, I know ^_^) 1\. I like the polite little labels attached to Japanese names so I decided to use it for this fic. They convey the same meaning as they would in Japanese. That's the only Japanese that I will be putting in this fic. 2\. This is a highly experimental fic. It also contains graphic lemon scenes. Thus said, enjoy!

  
  
It was raining again.  
  
Aya sighed even as he leaned against a magically-lit lamp post. He hated the rain. It made the gloomy streets around him even more dreary and dark. Not to mention that whenever it rained in Khuir, the rain was inevitably freezing cold and always accompanied by a biting wind. Dressed in his usual skimpy black leather bodysuit, which bared his slender arms and legs, Aya shivered and wished that someone would just come by to take him to a warm, fire-lit place. It was in moments like this that he wished he had joined one of the pimp gangs, especially the one his friend, Varyan, had joined in. That thought led to the thought of his twin brother, Dar. He wondered how he was doing and where he was. Hopefully, it was someplace better than the hellhole he was currently in.  
  
He lifted his eyes and looked around him, his wide lips lifting in a disgusted sneer. He saw a wrinkly-faced old hag negotiating with thin, brightly-garbed pimps. There was a 'clink' and the pimps walked off with two scrawny, prepubescent young girls. It was a scene that happened so often that it had ceased to affect him; it had become a fact of life.  
  
He sighed again, wishing he could light one of the slender rolls of sweet-weed. He longed to inhale that rich, musky scent and taste that unbelievably addictive sweetness. Unfortunately, the rain would just ruin the expensive rolls and after his monthly visit for sickness-purging with the local witch-doctor, Aya would not be able to afford a new set.  
  
He looked down at his water-logged boots, studying the well-worn black leather that shod his slender feet and reached half-way up his calf. They were an old pair and, even in the dim light of the fire-whisp spell, the boy could see the beginnings of holes.  
  
Suddenly, the boy blinked his long, lush lashes. A pair of exquisite brown boots had appeared in his line of vision. Slowly, Aya's gaze ran up a pair of dark-clad legs, topped by a tanned, muscular chest that was half-covered by a crimson velvet shirt. An enveloping dark overcoat swirled around a tall, slender frame. His assessing gaze noted the plain gold clasps on the overcoat, nothing overt nor gaudy. His eyes finally landed on a highly interesting face, as faces went. The long, beak-like nose was crooked, showing evidence of having been broken once and then ill-set. The high cheekbones and squarely-defined chin revealed a patrician heritage, while the lush full lips were reminiscent of a courtesan's. But it was the eyes that drew and locked his attention. Highlighted by black, arched eyebrows and short, thick lashes, the green eyes were deep and mesmerizing, hinting at some mysterious power that tugged and pulled at Aya.  
  
So mesmerized was the boy with the stranger's eyes that he almost didn't notice the long ragged scar that ran from his jaw up to the corner of his left eye. A second, smaller scar slanted upwards, starting an inch from the left ear. It ran across the longer one until it tapered near the bridge of the nose. Aya gave an involuntary gasp as he saw the scar. It seemed out of place in that beautiful face, yet it was so right in a way that Aya could not define.  
  
"How much?" The voice was deep and smooth, like the darkness that surrounded him. Aya felt that voice touch and swirl around him, making him shudder slightly. Those green eyes narrowed ever so slightly.  
  
"A copper an hour."  
  
An eyebrow arched. "Pretty steep for a street whore."  
  
Aya tried hard not to flinch at the stinging words; he had gotten used to the degrading names they called him and the others who worked this district but it somehow hurt more coming from this man. "Take it or leave it, sirrah," he replied tartly, looking nonchalantly away from those penetrating eyes, ignoring the ragged beating of his heart.  
  
"How about if I want something more?"  
  
Aya froze, even as he remained looking away. He forced himself to slowly turn his head around and meet those eyes squarely. He raised a quizzically arrogant eyebrow, hoping against hope that his expression only revealed mild interest.  
  
"I am looking for a 'companion'." Those green eyes watched the minute shifting of Aya's facial features that revealed emotion. Realizing what the other was about, the boy tried to maintain an impassive façade.  
  
"A permanent 'companion'?" he tried to ask casually. In his mind, two voices were screaming. One screamed 'Freedom! Finally a way out of this hellhole!'. The second screamed 'Danger! Don't do it!'. For out in the streets, there was only one meaning for a 'permanent companion' and that was 'personal slave'. Was he willing to make the transition?  
  
"Depends on how good you are, boy."  
  
A smirk twisted Aya's wide lips. "I'm the best," he purred. He repositioned one of his feet on the feet of the post in such a way that his calf was at an angle to the ground before leaning his upper torso forward and ran a light finger down the V-shaped neckline of his would-be customer's shirt. He peered up through his lashes towards those green eyes and ran a suggestive tongue across his mouth. Due to the rain, Aya had foregone the usual kohl and heavy paint for his face, leaving him bare of any cosmetics. A rush of irritation ran through him as he saw no noticeable indication that he had affected the man. :What does it take to get a rise out of this guy?: he thought, angrily. Instead, the purring words that came from his mouth were 'What's in it for me?'.  
  
The man looked him steadily in the eye for a few moments, before moving his head around to take in their surroundings. The district Aya 'worked' was one of the more neglected ones in Khuir, right at the waterfront. The streets were empty of the usual crowd of enchained prostitutes, attached to lamp posts, sidewalks, fences, everywhere that people will be able to see them. They were all hidden in their warm and cozy warehouses. There were a number of abandoned buildings. Drunks and addicts gathered in makeshift shelters. Free whores, those like Aya who had refused protection, stood by their claimed territories, calling out to lure the sailors that frequented the many garish taverns. Watchmen in their distinctive blue and yellow uniforms negotiated in the shadows, followed by a clinking of coins exchanging hands. The rank smell of urine, human and animal feces, and discarded garbage hung heavy in the air. Water gushed out from the roof pipes and pumped into the streets, mingling with the assorted substances in the streets that turned the clear water into a disgusting muddy brown. Aya followed his gaze as they moved around the district, feeling a sick loathing coiling inside him. Was it loathing for himself? For the others that dwelt in this swamp with him? The boy didn't know the answer. He could only flush and nod curtly when the man turned back to him. There was a flicker in the other man's eyes as they met the boy's. :Was it respect?: Aya wondered.  
  
"I'm a generous man. I don't beat my 'companions' nor do I hold to coercion. I'll give you decent clothes and a warm meal and room every night. You will accompany me in my journeys. I'm a busy man and I don't hold to incessant whining and half-cooked manipulations. You'll be tossed back out in the street if you start doing things like that." The voice was clinical and detached. Aya resented that, as much as he resented the current situation that forced him to consider the degrading offer. "Providing, of course, that you're 'clean'." Those green eyes ran over him like piercing needles.  
  
Aya flushed and tossed his hair back. "I've just had a visit with my witch-doctor," he replied, gesturing towards the tiny black crystal imbedded in his earlobe. All whores and slaves were issued these crystals as regulation, since pox and other sexually-gotten diseases were so rampant. They contained spells which display whether or not the person bearing them was ill. If it turned any color other than black, then it was a sign of sickness. Even then, though, disease was still spreading.  
  
"How do I know you won't just kill me?" the boy demanded. A lifetime of the streets marked people.  
  
"You don't. Do you accept or not?"  
  
Aya warred with himself. It was a short war, though; he would give almost anything to get out of the damned hell he was in now. This man offered him a room and a meal as long as he pleased him. Aya would damn well pleasure this man to his deathbed.  
  
"Agreed." A slender hand extended forward. The other man took it and shook firmly.  
  
"Come."  
  
Aya followed the man, smiling at the envious glances the other whores sent his way. He followed the other man, proudly strutting behind him, barely managing from sticking his tongue out at the others who had often made fun of him. Well, *he* had a customer and they didn't so that showed how much they know!  
  
@@@@  
  
The quarters his new master had secured for himself were sumptuous. Set in one of the better hotels in the Merchant's Square, it was large and roomy, with a massive four-poster bed, a large armoire, and a private privy. A warm fire was already prepared at the fireplace in front of the bed, casting soft golden-red lights all over the room, making the shadows dance. Aya gaped at his surroundings. His former 'patrons' had often been disgusting sailors, after some careless tumble, or drunken nobles, after an illicit thrill. This man was indeed different.  
  
"What do I call you, sir?" Aya asked, looking at the ground. The floor was made of burnished wood and felt oddly warm.  
  
"Jos. Call me Jos. What's your name?"  
  
"Aya."  
  
"Wash yourself off first, Aya," the man ordered, taking off his dripping clothes efficiently. Aya quickly nodded and went into the bathroom.  
  
A large sunken tub sat along one wall of the small cubicle. A sink sat next to a reasonably-clean-looking ceramic toilet. Aya sighed even as he turned on the metal faucets. He quickly stripped off his clothes.  
  
As Aya did so, he caught a glimpse of himself in the full-length mirror attached to the door. He stood in front of the mirror and studied his reflection. Stringy, wet green hair hung down beyond his shoulder, several half-curling strands settling against his chest. He was a short boy, a fact that had never really bothered Aya. He adored his body, taking care to bathe daily and apply smoothing creams all over his hairless skin. The only thing that bothered Aya about his body was its scrawniness. He could see the stark delineations of his ribcage, deep purple shadows that marred the pearlescent complexion. Having always had a slim waist and slender hips, missed meals had the pelvic bones jutting out, so sharply as to almost burst through the taut skin. Aya found himself staring at his cheerfully pink toes. Wriggling them, the boy burst out, giggling. A moment later, he looked up again at his full reflection, face impassive, before settling down inside the tub to enjoy his bath.  
  
Moments later, he emerged, his waist-length hair soft and slightly damp from its recent washing. He was bare, except for the miniscule towel, which barely covered the essentials. His pale, sunken cheeks were flushed as he briskly moved towards the bed, keeping his eyes to the ground. He had learned that customers hated being looked in the eye by a whore in a bedroom. He didn't know why that was, only that he had received enough beatings from his customers about it not to do it again.  
  
He looked up when he heard footsteps, just in time to see the bathroom door closing. Sound of water running came to his ears. Breathing a deep sigh of relief, Aya looked around the chamber and espied a large, pale blue tunic that buttoned at the front. He put it on, the color clashing with his green hair, and slid into the bed. He tried not to think about what would be happening in a few moments' time. Unfortunately, vivid scenarios flashed through his mind unceasingly.  
  
The wait seemed like forever. Aya could hear his pounding heart loudly in his ears, his harsh and ragged breathing hurting his unnaturally-dry throat. :Why is it so different now?: he asked himself. :I've done this a hundred times before. I'm no virgin.:  
  
Yet the trepidation and fear still coursed through him, almost suffocating in the dimness of the room.  
  
The boy started as he heard the bathroom door open. He froze, eyes on the wooden ceiling, trying to calm his breathing. He felt the bed dip and his slight form rolled towards the depression. A wide expanse of firm, golden flesh met his eyes and Aya quickly looked away, arousal now warring with his nervousness.  
  
@@@@  
  
Jocelin stared down at the delicate boy in his bed. His cold bath had done little to assuage the raging fire that heated him. He studied his new acquisition. The boy was looking away from him, his profile in stark view with the dancing light of the flames. Hunger had sunken the boy's cheeks, making them sharply angular and his sharp, thin nose accentuated that austerity of features. His lips, however, were wide and full, a soft contrast. His huge, thickly-lashed golden eyes, a color Jocelin had never seen before in a human being, dominated his too thin, too narrow face. Jocelin had drawn a sharp breath when he had seen those eyes, highlighted by the glow of lamp post, appearing like the gold that drew men to their deaths. He saw the fiery defiance, the contempt the boy held for his surroundings and the people around him, and yet, behind it all, he saw the pain of lost innocence and a flicker of a soul that hadn't been wholly extinguished.  
  
He lifted a hand and slowly reached out, but stopped. Turning his palm up, he saw the roughness and the calluses that marred his hands. Tiny scars were scattered all over the back of his hands, apparent as he turned his hands over again.  
  
:Flawed.:  
  
:Impure.:  
  
:Bloodied.:  
  
Those three thoughts echoed in the depths of Jocelin's mind. He suddenly clenched his hands, unable to look down at the imperfections that taunted him. He looked up to see that the boy was looking curiously back at him, those golden eyes flickering from his face and down to his clenched fists. Jocelin braced himself, unsure of the boy's reaction.  
  
@@@@  
  
Aya wondered what was taking the man so long. Didn't he know that he was supposed to jump him already and have the deed done in a matter of minutes? He resented this, the fact that the man didn't seem to be doing what he was expected to do. He twisted his head to face this 'Jos', opening his mouth to deliver a scathing comment, when he saw his patron staring down at his hands, a grim light in his eyes. Curious, Aya looked down at the hands.  
  
They were beautiful hands. The fingers were long and flexible, ending in blunt squares. The nails were cleanly pared, no claws that would dig and bring blood. Aya noted the little scars that marred the golden skin and felt a shiver of fear. He felt a burning sensation on him and he looked up, meeting the man's eyes. His breath caught.  
  
Jocelin couldn't help but drown in those golden depths. He had watched carefully as the boy studied his hands. He had seen the slight shiver and had despaired. Why he felt so for this little slip of a boy, he did not know.  
  
@@@@  
  
Aya felt detached from his body. He gazed down at his hands, seeing his hands move and clasp those scarred fists. He was sure he did not move, yet suddenly that rough skin was against his lips, his tongue darting out to taste. :He tastes like blood and fire,: Aya thought dreamily, licking those hands. :Something powerful and muted, yet warm and gentle.:  
  
@@@@  
  
Jocelin felt the almost-forgotten fire in him flare to life once again as he watched the boy---no, Aya---caress and kiss his hands. He had seen the surprise in the boy's eyes as their hands met, as if the boy had no control of his movements. He sat there for innumerable seconds, shivering as the delicate raspy sensation of a tactile tongue flicked and caressed every line and groove in his palm.  
  
Finally, he couldn't stand it and he broke the boy's grip on him. In a lightning-fast motion, he had the boy in his arms, Aya lying on top of him. Jocelin sank down the bed, savouring the feel of that hot, young body on top of his. The boy's eyes were wide in astonishment and a little fear as he gazed down at him. Jocelin smiled and raised his neck to capture those lips. His eyes closed as the taste and sensation exploded in his mouth. One hand lifted to grip the back of the boy's head, sinking in those exquisitely-soft strands, and he angled their heads so he could force those lips open and plunder the rich warmth beyond.  
  
@@@@  
  
Aya was in heaven. He felt invincible and dominant, lying on top of that strong, muscular body. He could feel the lurking strength that could break him in half, yet that added to the fire, the excitement. He had never been top before. It was a heady experience.  
  
He moaned as he felt his chest brushing an equally naked chest. :How did that happen?: he thought hazily, still drunk in the kiss. His patron had released his mouth and was running down those hot lips along the side of his neck. Aya panted; for the first time, he felt the fire that so many had spoken of longingly and it was as wonderful as they had said, so much more than he had ever imagined.  
  
He felt a cooling sensation on his bare skin and noted that those wide, callused hands were wandering all over his body, exploring him. Aya writhed on top of the other man, moaning as his staff brushed another, sparking a burst of fire that the boy could feel to the tips of his toes. He moaned and thrust back into that place, arching his back as hot skin brushed hot skin. A poweful grip landed back on his head and he melted in another fiery kiss, not caring if he ever breathed again.  
  
@@@@  
  
Jocelin was almost out-of-control. He ravaged that mouth, trying to still his hips and win back his control. :What is it about this boy?: he thought as he pulled the boy's mouth away from his, taking in a ragged breath. He opened his eyes into narrow green slits and saw the ecstatic expression in the other's face, the mouth gasping for breath, the eyes scrunched tight as those bony hips rocked and writhed against him. Jocelin moaned and arched his back as the boy's contortions drove him almost to the edge. He gritted his teeth and grabbed those hips, forcing them to be still, making them throb painfully against each other.  
  
@@@@  
  
Aya moaned as the delicious friction was stopped. He opened his eyes and snarled at his new patron, his head whipping forward to nip sharply at the chest in punishment. A drop of blood appeared and Aya licked it off, smiling.  
  
@@@@  
  
Jocelin's eyes widened. :So his new lover was a savage, was he?: he thought, his tongue running seductively across his lips as he looked down at the boy, sinking down even deeper in the bed as he saw a pink little tongue lapping at his nipple. Tiny sparks of sensation ran through him at the contact. :Good.: He lifted the boy's hips up and, positioning him carefully, reached to the table to grab some of the fragrant cream he had placed there as he returned from the bath. Coating his staff with the slick substance, Jocelin gritted his teeth and plunged the boy down in one savage stroke. Both bodies arched as identical shouts came to two lips and echoed in the room.  
  
@@@@  
  
A few doors down, a gray-haired woman poked her frizzled head out the door. The screams had disrupted her sleep and she marched down the hallway. Rapping indignantly at the door, she yelled, "Shut up in there! This is not a bordello!" She sniffed and went back to her room.  
  
@@@@  
  
Both froze at the sound of knocking. Aya started as a thick, hoarse voice shouted at them, slightly muffled by thick wooden door, though her words were clear enough. He looked down and saw those beautiful green eyes widening and found humor. A silly smile appeared on Aya's face and both of them laughed. It was a rich, cleansing laugh, and both felt better after it.  
  
@@@@  
  
Jocelin managed to halt his chuckling and looked up appreciatively at his new lover. This Aya was worth his weight in gold and Jocelin knew that theirs would be an excellent partnership. He grinned at the thought of more nights like this and thrust his hips up, reminding the boy of just where they were interrupted.  
  
@@@@  
  
Aya's laughter vanished as he felt the body beneath him thrust, hitting something that sent stars bursting behind his lids. He moaned as hands grasped his hips and began moving him up and down in a ferocious tempo. His heart pounding, his ears ringing, Aya raced on, looking for something. In a burst of white-hot ecstacy, he found it.  
  
@@@@  
  
Jocelin guided those hips to a rhythm and closed his eyes as the boy rode on top of him. He began thrusting up, his hands running down that smooth back. He felt climax nearing and with a deep breath, brought those thrusting hips down powerfully even as he thrust upward. He felt as if he was being swallowed by a screaming fire as he spilled his seed. Blackness enveloped him.  
  
@@@@  
  
A moan escaped Aya's bruised and swollen lips as he swam back to consciousness. His body ached, especially his buttocks, yet it was nothing compared to the heavy languor and deep satiation that he felt. "So that was what the other whores called the 'Little Death'," he mumbled to himself.  
  
A chuckle made his eyes flutter open and he looked down his patron's amused face. Aya flushed as he realized that he was still lying on top of Jos. He took a look at the window and saw that the half-moon was still up.  
  
"Never experienced it before, eh, boy?" the man's wine-dark voice echoed in the silence of the room. Aya flushed and then his nose twitched as the pungent smell of sex assaulted him. The man laughed softly again.  
  
"You never said my name, boy."  
  
"You didn't say mine, either," Aya replied tartly. He slowly broke free of the man's encircling arms and stood on shaky legs beside the bed. He moaned and stretched, hearing assorted 'pop's and 'snap's all over his body. He moved languidly towards the window, limping slightly as he was sore from their exertions, and opened those glass-paned panels, breathing in the rush of sweet air. This air was so different from that of the wharf, bereft of the stench of human depravity, bearing only the clean, salty-sharp tang of the ocean air.  
  
"I want you to call me Jos next time." The man's serious words brought Aya's attention back to the rumpled bed and its inhabitant. "I'll call you Aya."  
  
The former street-thief-whore took a deep breath and nodded. "Yes---Jos."  
  
"Good. Come back here. I think I got my second wind." The tenting of the blankets supported that last statement.  
  
Aya grinned and he hurried back to that warm bed. :Fortuna has truly smiled upon me. A rich, strong patron, and vigorous as well as gentle. Thank you, gods!:


	2. PART 2: A BURDEN WILLINGLY TAKEN

Light.  
  
Tiny pinpricks of light found its way through Aya's closed lids. The boy moaned sleepily and stretched, arching his back. His lids fluttered open and he looked around, taking in his surroundings. As he sat up, yawning, memories of last night flashed through his mind, making him twist his head around to look for his new patron. He was alone in the room.  
  
Aya grinned sleepily even as he buried himself back into the rumpled bed. Last night had been the single most enjoyable night of his young life. Jos-sama was the kind of lover Aya had never thought he would find: gentle, ferocious, passionate, and best of all, insatiable.  
  
The knock on the door interrupted the boy's pleasant daydreaming. Startled, he sat up and yelled for the person to come in. A petite brunette with huge black eyes opened the door. "Good morning!" she chirped.  
  
Aya winced. The girl's voice was nasal and her high tone made it even more unbearable. He smiled faintly at her. "Good morning." He clambered out of bed, unaware of his nudity until the girl turned away, blushing furiously. Aya grinned, but grabbed for the bedsheets to cover himself.  
  
"Your master is waiting for you downstairs. He told me to wake you up," the girl said, moving to the bed and started pulling off the sheets. Aya nodded and walked to the washroom, leaving the bedsheet just outside the bathroom door.  
  
The steamy, hot water cleansed and soothed his tired muscles. Aya closed his eyes and allowed the heat to seep in. He emerged from the bath, pink and shiny and naked. The chirpy little chit was gone, thankfully. He walked forward, only to stop short in front of the now neat bed. His jaw dropped open.  
  
An elegant pair of black silk pants was arranged on the bed sheets. Black silk underpants lay on top of the trousers. A sleeveless grey tunic, embroidered with black and yellow thread, lay next to it. A plain wooden box sat next to the clothes.  
  
Excitement flared in Aya and he hurriedly put those garments on. He ran back to the mirror in the bathroom. He stared at himself.  
  
The black pants were loose and warm against his skin, making his legs look longer than they really were. The tunic ran down just below the waist, fitting him perfectly. Aya pulled at the silk belt around it and tied it in a knot at his side. The color complimented the dark, emerald-green of his hair. Dry now, his hair had assumed its customary style, the long, wavy locks ending in curls at the middle of his back. Aya adored his hair but he despaired of finding garments to match, or at least not clash with it. Smiling at his reflection, he went back out to that mysterious little box.  
  
Trembling hands reached for the case and slowly opened it.  
  
Fire rushed through him, a despair that burned almost as strongly as lust had the night before. Hands shaking, Aya lifted, from a nest of blue cotton, a thin collar. It was a brilliantly executed masterpiece of jewels and silver; the wide, circular silver band was studded with smooth, diamond-shaped amber shards that reached from the top edge down to the bottom. The center of the collar held a large emerald, the sunlight that poured from the window lighting the green fire inside the crystalline structure. The inside of the collar was lined with smooth, silky black velvet.  
  
:So this is it,: thought the boy darkly, staring in horror at that piece of jewelry. It was the symbol of what he had sold to escape from the streets.  
  
His freedom.  
  
Once he put on the bracelet willing, he would legally become the slave of one dark-haired, green-eyed 'Jos'. Every breath he took, every garment his body wore, every food his mouth savored, they would all be granted through the mercy of his new 'master'. It was this commitment that Jos was seeking, this kind of 'permanent companion'. :Imprisoned,: thought the boy distantly.  
  
Aya's mind raced. :I don't have to. There was no contract of ownership. I could charge for the night and be gone. Yes, that's right. I'll leave now and forget I've ever seen that face, those eyes, felt those hands. Oh gods!:  
  
But his limbs remained rooted to the floor, his hands clenched on the collar. He lifted his head and moved it around, looking consideringly at the room. The fire had been put out, the ashes nicely raked into one corner of the fireplace. The window was open, letting in a tangy, cool breeze. The girl had also placed beautiful white blossoms called Eraukura, their heavy, lush perfume absorbing the more pungent aroma of sex. The room was warm and to the homeless Aya, it resounded of security.  
  
:This is where I met a man straight from my dreams,: Aya thought, :this is where I was held and loved, no matter that it was false, a bedroom love. This is where I'm being offered a life far better than I could ever have.:  
  
The boy knew that if he returned to the streets, he would end up a pimp or a drug junkie. There was no way out for most of the street rats. But, for him, the key to a new life was in his hands.  
  
:There really is no choice. None at all.:  
  
Fingers shook and trembled as they fumbled for the clasp at the back. Snick. The collar opened. Aya stared at its gaping mouth, tears streaming down his cheeks. He sank down the floor, his chest shaking from silent sobs, his tears flowing more freely now. Closing his eyes, Aya gulped before bringing his hands closer and closer to his neck. The velvet felt like a tender kiss as they touched his skin. The 'snick' as the lock closed, however, was a death's toll in his ears. Instantly, he felt the enchantment in the collar flare to life, making the metal mold itself to his throat like a second skin. It made the collar weigh next to nothing, and yet it was an unbreakable piece of metal. No saw, sword, or dart could penetrate it; Aya would never have to worry about someone slitting his throat. But there was no joy in that realization. None.  
  
For the first time since he was sold out into the streets by cruel creditors, Aya broke down in that pleasant little room, sobbing like a little child.  
  
@@@@@  
  
He didn't know how long he sat there, crying his heart out. It seemed like forever. He rubbed at the puffy sensation of his eyes, knowing them to be reddened and swollen. Getting shakily up to his feet, he walked towards a mirror, wanting, needing to see whether anything changed.  
  
Nothing. Nothing had changed. He still had the same long, curling green hair, the cat-shaped yellow eyes, the taut, angular face. The clothes looked beautiful on him, making him appear like a noble's son. The gleaming silver sheen at his neck belied the image.  
  
"A slave," he murmured to himself, touching the collar gingerly. The metal felt warm underneath his fingertips.  
  
"I am a slave."  
  
He stared at his reflection solemnly. :No more tears.:


	3. PART 3: THE LONG ROAD HOME

"Where are we going, Jos-sama?"  
  
"To the Jakrosian continent."  
  
"Oh." Aya sat on his cheerfully cantering gelding, considering his Master's reply. He wondered whether or not to push for a more specific reply.  
  
"I've been summoned home."  
  
Aya twisted around the saddle to stare wide-eyed at Jos. The other man merely sat quietly on his black stallion. "I didn't know you still had family."  
  
"Hn."  
  
The boy shut up, hearing the noncommittal grunt. After being in Jos-sama's company for two weeks, he knew that whenever his Master had that particular tone in his voice, it would be wisest not to bother him. He gnawed at a lock of hair, staring at the scenery around him.  
  
Trees. Leaves. Running deer. Trees. Leaves. Noisy woodpecker. Trees.  
  
Okay, Aya was not the nature-lover his twin had been. At the thought of Dar, an ache settled in the region of his chest. :Dar,: he thought longingly. :Where are you?:  
  
There was no answer. There had never been an answer before.  
  
The slave sighed and twisted around to rummage at the bags secured behind him, coming up with his beloved bronze case. He popped it open, revealing iridescent-blue-green rolls and a fire-starter. He took one roll out and secured the case back into the bag. With experienced fingers, he coaxed a fire from the miniscule box-like device and lit his roll. He tucked the fire-starter back into his bag and began drawing in the sweet smoke, savoring the delicate sweetness that lingered on his tongue.  
  
One of sweet-weed's greatest dangers was the onrush of illusions and hallucinations. Aya, curiously enough, had never suffered from any of the weed's lethal side-effects. He wasn't even that addicted to the weed roll. For him, it was just a way to reassure himself that he was still surviving, that he had enough money to be frivolous once in a while.  
  
Foom!  
  
Aya shrieked and tumbled from his mount to land butt-first on the hard ground. He lifted a hand to brush away the black ashes left by the sudden, soft explosion of the weed roll. He lifted fiery eyes towards his Master. Jos-sama looked calmly back at him.  
  
"I told you I don't tolerate weed. Maybe now you'll listen to me."  
  
Foom! Foom! Foom!  
  
"Shit! Shit! Shit!" Aya scrambled to his feet and ran to where his gelding had stopped to nibble on an thick, outgrowth of grass. He searched through his bags and came out with the bronze box and the fire-starter. He sighed in relief, seeing they were still in excellent condition. He opened the box.  
  
:$#$&%^@@#$$$#!!!!!!!:  
  
The box had previously contained sixteen rolls of sweet-weed, each worth twenty coppers. All that was left inside the box was the powdery black ash that had coated his mouth. Aya seriously thought of strangling his Master.  
  
"Don't even think about it."  
  
"That cost me several weeks' work money!"  
  
"Waste of money."  
  
"How do you know? Arrogant bastard," the slave muttered underneath his breath, emptying the box onto the ground before sullenly stuffing it back into the bag.  
  
"That is what will happen every time I see you with that poison in your mouth, understand?" His Master's voice was velvet-sheathed steel.  
  
Aya shivered. Damn, he hated it when Jos-sama intimidated him like that----about as much as he hated himself for being intimidated. "Yes, Master," he replied sullenly, getting back on his mount.  
  
The two set foot once again. Aya stared at the scenery again, hoping against hope that something changed.  
  
Trees. Leaves. Crying baby. Trees. Leaves. Big bear coming this way. Trees.  
  
:What the?! Crying baby? BEAR?:  
  
Aya twisted around to see a great monster roaring fitfully just a few yards from him and his Master. Jos-sama had already turned, one hand at the sword at his back, the other at the dirk at his waist.  
  
"Aya! Rescue the kid! Hurry!"  
  
The boy didn't need to be told twice. Digging his heels onto his mount's sides, he shot off. He scanned his surroundings, trying to find the source of the voice. There, to his left!  
  
He veered deeper into the forest, hearing the sounds of battle behind him. He yanked at the reins, causing the gelding to rear protestingly. Aya was locked at the sight in front of him.  
  
The bear had obviously been hunting when it had come across a young woman and her baby. The young woman was dead, gaping holes at her chest revealing the cause of death. Marks vaguely resembling teeth were visible around one bloody arm. A slight rustling and a hiccuping cry to the right of the woman snapped Aya back to attention. He dismounted and went to a wriggling lump of leaves, unearthing a plump, red-faced baby. The child looked quite adorable in its oversized cotton garments, his eyes scrunched tight and his fire-red hair standing on end. The babe looked about a year old.  
  
"Everything all right, Aya?"  
  
The boy jumped, instinctively cradling the baby. "Of course, I'm all right," Aya blustered, taking in the bloody clothing. "I take it that we have supper tonight?"  
  
Jos-sama began chuckling. "Right after we bury her."  
  
Two hours later, the threesome was huddling inside an empty cavern. Two spits of tender bear meat were being rolled carefully over a roaring fire. Aya played with the baby, wriggling a finger into the bow-shaped mouth and feeling tiny teeth sink into his flesh. The baby stared at the green-haired angel, gray eyes wide and happy. He had stopped crying as soon as Aya began rocking him, seemingly content to just stare at its rescuer. Jos merely watched the two's antics.  
  
"Ah, Jos-sama?"  
  
"Hn?"  
  
"What do I feed it?"  
  
Jos' black brows drew together into a fierce frown, considering his slave's words. He told the boy to watch their supper and went out. Aya stared at his retreating back before a piercing cry drew back his attention. "Why you little bugger," he cooed to the baby. "Ouch! Don't bite so hard! That's not dinner!"  
  
@@@@  
  
Jocelin moved through the thick vegetation. There! He plucked several round fruit from a low-branching tree. The fruits of the Yaki tree were delicious and healthy. It is often called 'peasant's milk' as the trees grew actively on almost every soil imaginable and its fruit and leaves can be crushed to create a milky substance.  
  
He went back to the cave and began crushing two of the fruit onto a wooden bowl. He handed the bowl to Aya, who gingerly began pouring the liquid down the infant's throat. Unfortunately, the child could not keep up with the flow and quite a bit of the liquid splashed all over him and his caretaker. Upset, the babe began struggling, making Aya put down the bowl to comfort the child. The boy turned a 'what do I do now' look at his Master. His Master merely shrugged and bit into a well-cooked piece of meat.  
  
@@@@  
  
Aya glared at Jos-sama. He turned back at the now hiccupping child he was joggling. :Don't throw up on me, don't throw up on me,: the boy prayed fiercely. He had seen several of the maids around the District with their children and had seen how they took care of their kids. One of the more unpleasant scenes was when an infant threw up all over her mother's back. Aya hoped that he would not have to experience the same thing.  
  
Well, the little sprat seemed to have calmed down, resettling its big head on his shoulder. :Damn, what had its Mother been feeding it?: he thought grumpily. :This kid's heavy.:  
  
He looked down at the full bowl. He had to get at least half of that liquid down the kid's throat. He racked his brains for a method.  
  
A tap at his shoulder and a huge, sickeningly-red bag appeared in his line of sight. Aya fought down a wave of revulsion as he realized he was looking at the bear's gut. "What am I supposed to use that for?" he growled.  
  
"It's clean. Put the milk in here and feed the kid. We have to return it as soon as possible."  
  
Aya shuddered but did as his Master ordered. To his amazement, it actually worked. The small hose-like opening fit perfectly into the child's mouth and Aya could position the babe and the sac in such a way that the baby could take in as much milk as he could without choking. Soon the sac was empty and the baby was fast asleep in Aya's arms.  
  
"You're a fat little pig but at least you're cute," Aya told the infant even as he gently laid it down on a nest of clothes.  
  
He felt a pair of warm arms slip around his waist and a hot mouth at his ear. He sighed in pleasure and leaned in against his Master's arms. Two mouths met in a passionate kiss.  
  
@@@@@  
  
Aya glared at his Master's retreating back before switching his glare at the innocently sleeping bundle of joy beside him. The kid's hair was still standing on end, a fiery halo. Those starfish hands opened and closed as the infant yawned.  
  
:Damned kid!: thought the infuriated, thwarted, aroused young man, glaring at the innocent little face.  
  
He and Jos-sama had been getting to the point of no return as they had lain tangled before the fire when the demon-child started screaming its head off. Jos-sama had instantly rolled away from his young lover and stared in bemusement as the lovely, green-haired boy blinked in confusion before moving to rock the baby in his arms. The infant soon quieted and fell back to sleep, only to start wailing every time his Master would even begin to reinitiate something. After three several frustrated attempts, the two decided to just go to sleep for once. The baby had slumbered peacefully onwards like the petite angel that it was beside them.  
  
"Aya, hurry it up! I don't want to lose the light!"  
  
"Don't rush me! Hey, kid, wake up, here's your breakfast. And if you try what you did last night again, I'm going to strangle you, understand?" Though the words were harsh, the tone and hands were gentle as they scooped up the infant. Sleepy gray eyes opened and four sharp teeth twinkled.  
  
"Momma!" cheered the brat, bobbing its head like a bouncy fireball.  
  
Aya glared at the kid, wrestling with bear-gut sac, laden with more of the milky substance. "I'm not your momma!" he snapped.  
  
"Momma!"  
  
"Not!"  
  
"Momma!"  
  
"Not!"  
  
"Momma!"  
  
The last was a piercing scream. Aya's ears were ringing. He sighed in defeat. "Whatever, kid. Just finish this thing before Master comes back."  
  
Satisfied with his triumph, the obnoxious little brat gulped down the milk cheerfully. Aya could swear that those gray eyes were laughing at him.  
  
@@@@@  
  
"Aiyaaah! Thoren! Thoren!"  
  
Aya stared in astonishment as a truly heavy-set woman with a headful of fiery hair the exact shade of the babe's in his arms ran towards him, plump arms waving wildly in the air. As if to emphasize the similarity, the woman's hair was so thick that it seemed to be standing upright as well.  
  
He gaped as the woman bore down on him, followed by a massively-muscled man with salt-and-pepper hair, carrying a hooked staff. He eyed the staff apprehensively.  
  
A bubble of staccato words issued from the woman's lips, directed at him. Aya only stared, holding the baby to his chest protectively.  
  
The man with the staff had accosted his Master but his Master seemed to take it in stride. In fact, as Aya watched their interaction, he realized that Jos-sama not only understood the rapid-fire bursts of sound but could speak it as well. The man nodded at his Master's words every so often until they finally seemed to reach agreement. They both turned towards Aya.  
  
"Aya, these are the grandparents of the baby Thoren. They'll take care of him from now on."  
  
The boy stared at raspberry-blowing bundle in his arms and realized he didn't want to leave this annoying little brat. A deep ache bloomed in his chest as he stared down at the healthy, pink baby face. He looked up suddenly and saw Jos-sama's eyes on him, shadowed and considering. He bit his lip, ashamed at being weak and immediately thrust the babe into the waiting arms of the woman. :Good riddance, brat,: he thought to himself with an odd lack of joy. Damn, he was actually going to miss the little bugger. He turned away from the cooing grandmother and the gurgling infant and moved towards his Master's side.  
  
A consoling hand landed gently on his shoulder, squeezing reassuringly. Aya shrugged the arm off indignantly. "Can we go now?" he asked his Master.  
  
Jos-sama nodded and turned his mount towards the exit of the village. Aya followed suit. Both froze as the man yelled a few more words towards them. Positioned behind his Master, Aya watched as the broad back stiffened and a roiling dark tension began to emanate from his Master. His tone when he replied was casual, though, revealing none of the emotion to the happy couple. The two of them exchanged a few more words before his Master cantered away from the village.  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To Be Continued with Dar's story


End file.
